


[Unfinished] Countdown

by one_starry_knight



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22555888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_starry_knight/pseuds/one_starry_knight
Summary: Perceptor's emotions were never deleted, merely locked away. And soon, they'd be unlocked.~Based on an anonymous ask about what it might be like if Perceptor hadn't actually deleted his emotions and instead locked them behind a timer.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	[Unfinished] Countdown

**Author's Note:**

> _"Anonymous asked: What if tfa Percy held some sort of locked backup of his emotions on a separate computer? A timed lock? Where he calculated how long the war would be (wildly miscalculated due to it seemingly being a never ending war) and then allows access to it? How do you think the others would react to centuries of thinking Percys deletion was permanent and to find out it wasn't?"_

Perceptor typed away at the terminal, locking down file after file. He didn’t have much time to work, the Decepticons had already begun their raid on the Iacon labs. He hesitated before quickly putting a timed lock on the files so that they couldn’t be accessed again until later, even by him. How long would be long enough? How long was this war meant to last? Perceptor did some quick calculations in his head, figuring up the probability of one side or another winning and how long it would take to do so. Ten million years should do, he figured. Perceptor squinted at the clock, his servo hovering above the button to engage the lock. No time for second guessing.

An explosion from the lower labs shook the floor and Perceptor ex-vented sharply, engaging the lock. The clock began to count down from the second he pressed the button. No going back now.

When the Autobots returned to the labs to clean up after the raid, the terminal remained where it had been left, the clock continuing to count down. Perceptor should have been relieved.

But his feeling of relief was locked behind the timer, and the numbers ticking down seemed agonizingly slow.

* * *

Perceptor sat at his desk in his habsuite, his optics locked on the screen in front of him. The numbers ticked down, as they had every day for the last several million years. Perceptor had been keeping an eye on it for as long as the thing had been functional. It was the one thing keeping him anchored to the real world for some time now, the one thing that reminded him that time was indeed passing and exactly how long he’d been serving the Autobots. He didn’t make a habit of watching the clock for very long. He’d check it in passing every once in a while, making a mental note of the time left on it before moving on with his day.

It was also a reminder of a mistake he’d made so long ago. The time set on the clock had been miscalculated, leaving Perceptor without access to some files he should have had millenia ago.

Personality subroutines, emotion modulators, morality cores.

The lock was only supposed to last until the war was over. He’d done the math for how long the war was likely going to last, but his math had been wrong. The war had ended long before the clock reached zero. How long had it been since the war had ended? Perceptor wasn’t entirely sure. Long enough that young bots had only ever seen Decepticons in war documentaries. Recently enough that old bots still recoiled from the sound of gunfire. An eternity ago. Or perhaps only just yesterday. The wounds were nothing but faded scars, yet seemed so fresh they could reopen at the slightest touch. Perceptor’s memory banks were failing him.

The clock kept ticking down.

Perceptor narrowed his optics at the clock, studying the way he’d wired it into the terminal all those years ago. The clock itself was a custom made piece Perceptor had bought before the war began from a chronosmith whose name and original face were lost to time. He couldn’t remember how he’d managed to wire it to the terminal, but the shoddy craftsmanship reminded him of how impatient he used to be, how scatterbrained and fidgety he was, to the point that even his old inventions seemed scatterbrained. The once beautiful clock now looked as though, if it could speak, it would be unable to maintain a single, coherent thought.

Perceptor’s attention snapped to the door as a soft _ahem_ broke the silence. Wheeljack leaned against the doorframe, servos crossed. He tilted his helm, eyeing Perceptor inquisitively.

“What’s got you actin’ so strange? You’ve been starin’ at that clock a lot lately.” Wheeljack’s finials glowed softly as he spoke, his optics fixed on the smaller scientist. Perceptor turned back to the clock, lifting a servo to tap at the screen with a digit.

“The remaining time on the countdown is five megacycles, twenty-seven cycles, fourty--”

“And then what?”

Perceptor looked back to Wheeljack when the masked mech interrupted him, his helm cocked as an expression that almost seemed surprised worked its way across his soft features. Wheeljack held back a snort at the look Perceptor was giving him. Like a deer caught in headlights, it was as if Perceptor had never considered what would happen when the clock reached zero.

“And then…” Perceptor hesitated, “And then my time locked files will be available once more.”

“Those the same files you nearly got your arm blown off over, ‘cause you stayed behind durin’ that raid to get them locked up?”

“The same files.”

“What could’a been so important that you risked your life to keep them locked away?” Wheeljack took a few steps into the room towards Perceptor, whose helm dropped as he fidgeted uncomfortably.

“My emotion modulators… and similar components of my processor. I’d kept them locked away during the war so that I wouldn’t be tempted to restore them and ruin all of our hard work. It was that decision that made Project Omega successful, after all.” Perceptor didn’t look up at Wheeljack even as the larger mech moved to stand over him. Wheeljack blinked in confusion as he processed the information, his optics narrowing ever so slightly.

“You had your emotions backed up this whole time?”

“Well, yes, of course I did. I had only intended on ridding myself of them for as long as needed to win the war. My job was far easier without all of that… _pesky morality_. However, I miscalculated how long I needed to lock them. The war has been over for… for...” Perceptor shook his head. He couldn’t remember.

Wheeljack took a step back, an ache eating away at his spark that made him want to turn and leave right then.

“After all this time, I thought you got rid of your emotions for good.” Wheeljack sounded hurt and as Perceptor looked up at his conjunx, he could see the pain in the other’s optics. He had that look again, that deer in headlights look, and Wheeljack was almost offended. Had Perceptor never considered that him removing his emotions affected others? Why did he seem shocked to discover that his own conjunx was hurt by a decision that was, in Wheeljack’s opinion, impulsive and stupid?

“Don’t look at me like that, didn’t you ever think about how I might feel about you _not_ feeling? Did you think about anyone else’s feelings? Or were you only thinkin’ about getting rid of your own?”

Perceptor wasn’t sure how to respond, he could only stare up at the other with that same, vaguely shocked expression. He hadn’t really thought it mattered to anyone else. They were at war when he’d chosen to remove his emotions, he was merely doing what he needed to further the cause. And regardless, he and Wheeljack weren’t a couple back then, why would it have hurt him? Why had it mattered then? Why did it matter now? Perceptor wasn’t sure. He didn’t have the answers he felt he should have.

“I--.. I was unaware you had an opinion on the matter. I simply thought that I was doing what was required of me to aid Ultra Magnus--”

“Required of you? No one required you to get rid of the things that made you… you!” Wheeljack motioned out towards Perceptor with both servos to emphasize his statement, the pitch of his voice rising ever so slightly.

“Perhaps that was the wrong phrasing, what I meant was--”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant, the point is you didn’t think about anyone but yourself, did you? And now, here you are, just waitin’ on your emotions to come back to you and then-- then what? Everythin’ goes back to how it was before the war? Everything goes back to bein’ happy and fun, all rainbows and sunshine?” Wheeljack asked, his spoiler wings twitching in slight irritation.

Perceptor ex-vented sharply, turning back to the clock on the terminal. “I never...” He balled his fists and hunched his shoulders, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“You never what? You never thought that doin’ something so impulsive and stupid based on the words of a mech who never treated you well in the first place would backfire? You never thought that removing a part of yourself just ‘cause Shockwave told you you’re too ‘emotional’ would hurt anyone? I have news for ya, Perce! You hurt everyone who was close to you! But not just us, you hurt yourself, too. You never planned on that, did you?”

“I never--... I never expected things to be the same. I knew it would be different. I just didn’t think this is what would be different. I didn’t think I was hurting anyone, but myself.”

There was a brief moment of silence before Perceptor looked back up at Wheeljack, his emotionless optics seemingly searching the larger mech’s face for some sort of answer, for something to say that would fix the situation.

“Were you really hurt by my actions?”

Wheeljack in-vents deeply, his back stiffening. He has a plethora of things he’d like to say in response, a lifetime’s worth of sarcastic or rude remarks and replies, all of which he pushes to the back of his mind as he ex-vents slowly. He can tell Perceptor isn’t asking mockingly or because he doesn’t actually believe it; he can tell Perceptor genuinely didn’t know.

“Yeah, I was. Still am. Mainframe is, too. And Red, and Botanica, and Magnus, and I could go on. It’s like losing someone, but everyone has to pretend like they’re still there. I love you, Perce, I love every version of you. Emotions or not, you’re still the mech I fell in love with, but… But, you messed up. You turned yourself into this… this mockery of the respectable mech you used to be. You’re not the kind, excitable bot everyone loved. Not even close.”


End file.
